Four times Yuri hates love on the ice (and one time he sorta doesn't)
by rinsled05
Summary: OR Four times Viktuuri kiss on the ice and one time they don't. A short ficlet filled with sap, sap, and more teeth-rotting sap, blunted only by Yuri Plisetsky's angry pubescent lens. [Oneshot / Viktuuri]


_**Author's notes:** This is the result of a burst of inspiration, raw and unbeta'd. I hope you enjoy it, and have a very merry Christmas, everyone!_

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 **#1**

"Do they ever stop?" Yuri mutters darkly. Leaning against the barrier, he's watching the two love-struck idiots flail about all giggly and tangled limbs in the middle of the ice rink, failing terribly at coordinating their movements for the gala exhibition.

"Green's not your color, Yura," Mila quips next to him. She's watching as well, her cheek resting lightly on a gloved hand. "I think it's all very sweet."

"I'm not _jealous_ ," Yuri turns to Mila, scowling. "I just think they should be more focused in their practice given their stupid choice to do _pair skating_."

On the ice, Viktor loses his balance after attempting a lutz lift with Yuuri and the pair tumbles backwards, crashing onto the cold surface. Together, they share a breathless laugh, seconds before Viktor slides a hand to the back of Yuuri's neck and surges up for a kiss.

"Ugh," groans Yuri.

"Oh go moan somewhere else," Mila flicks her wrist at Yuri dismissively, "You're killing my buzz."

Love, thinks Yuri, should be kept firmly _off_ the ice.

 **#2**

The next time, it's Georgi who watches the pair's efforts on the ice with him. He apparently flew into Barcelona to celebrate his teammate's victories, with Yuri placing gold and Mila, silver.

Though Yuri appreciates the gesture, he has never felt particularly comfortable with the older man; there's something disturbing about him that Yuri can't quite place. Even now, the man is gazing out at the Viktor and Yuuri with the oddest expression on his face, as though he'd been hit by a bus and was quietly suffering from the pain.

"You uh," Yuri starts, instantly regretting that he ever opened his mouth, "You okay there, Georgi?"

Georgi turns his expression onto Yuri, sending involuntary shivers up his spine. "How lucky they are to have found the ultimate definition of life," the (crazy) man sighs wistfully.

In the rink, Viktor is brushing Yuuri's bangs out of his eyes, commenting on the length of his hair. The pig says something to the effect of missing Viktor's old hairstyle and maybe growing out a ponytail as tribute, which earns him a chuckle and a kiss on the forehead from the Russian.

"What, perpetual nausea?" Yuri says.

Georgi clicks his tongue. "So young," he says simply.

Love definitely has no place on the ice and Georgi Popovich is a madman.

 **#3**

The first thing Yuri hears when he enters the practice rink is a low, breathy whispering of a foreign language. He isn't well versed in the romance languages, but the words sound very much like Italian. Frowning, he steps in cautiously, his grip tightening on the slings of his gym bag, tensed and ready for a heavy swing if necessary.

When he sees who it is, Yuri exhales sharply and relaxes, eyes rolling.

Viktor is holding Yuuri by the waist, the couple turning in a slow spin in the middle of the ice. Foreheads pressed together, the older man is murmuring softly in Italian, punctuating each phrase with a kiss as he speaks. Yuuri's expression is one of complete enrapture, eyes shining with tenderness.

Loudly, Yuri clears his throat. He enjoys the startled look crossing the pig's face, though Viktor, irritatingly, merely lifts his head with a calm smile. "Some of us are here to skate," Yuri declares.

"But we _are_ skating, Yurio," Viktor says, lips curving.

"Doesn't look like skating to me," Yuri snorts, dropping his gym bag on a bench.

"Our Yuuri here, you see, has been shockingly performing to ' _Stammi vicino'_ without any knowledge of the lyrics," Viktor gazes down at Yuuri lovingly, "So I thought I ought to rectify that."

Yuuri lays his right hand on Viktor's cheek, caressing it gently. The gold ring glints under the floodlights. "And I've picked up some useful Italian along the way." Leaning up, the Japanese skater brushes a kiss on Viktor's lips. " _Stammi vicino, non te ne andare._ "

In response, Viktor takes Yuuri's hand and presses his lips on the ring. " _Ho paura di perderti_."

"God you two are _disgusting_ ," says Yuri, before he storms out to the changing rooms to hide his flaming face.

"Sorry Yurio," Yuuri calls sincerely, accompanied by Viktor's hearty laughter.

Love has no damn place on the ice, especially when it's going to be so revoltingly _affectionate_.

 **#4**

They follow Yuri's exhibition and their performance is not bad for a first pair skating attempt. The crowd goes wild, of course, but how can they not when the couple is making history performing as a same-sex pair on a recognized national showcase.

"Breathtaking," JJ remarks. "It's a shame my Isabella can't skate."

"Or you'd be the best?" Christophe drawls.

"But of course," says the Canadian with a roguish grin.

Yuri rolls his eyes. The other skaters may have warmed up to JJ after his failure in the short program, but he still sees the pompous fool for what he really is: a self-absorbed narcissist.

In the row below, the Thai skater, Phichit, is snapping pictures on his phone at an alarming rate, pausing only to switch to video mode every now and then. Yuri suspects their instagrams are going to be flooded by the end of the night.

"Their technique needs work, but a very good first attempt overall."

Yuri smiles at Otabek, the only voice of reason in their nutty skating community. "Exactly how I feel."

The stoic man smiles in return, the tiniest quirk of lips.

There is an unfamiliar twist in Yuri's stomach, but he ignores it, returning his attention to the pair below. They are done with the performance, chests heaving in their final poses. Viktor drops a kiss on the crown of Yuuri's head, before they raise their joined hands and bow deeply to raucous cheering throughout the stadium. Even Otabek rises to his feet with the rest of them, clapping vigorously despite the blank expression on his face.

Yuri feels himself waver ever so slightly, but he remains firm: the ice is raw and cold and bruising and love has no place on it.

 **#5**

After a successful gala exhibition, they all decide to celebrate on an outdoor ice skating rink, which Yuri thinks is the dumbest idea ever.

Why choose a setting that already occupies a large part of their lives?

Yet, across the ice, everyone appears to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Phichit and Yuuri are laughing and shoving at each other like a pair of elementary school kids; Christophe and Viktor seem to be deep in conversation, no doubt reminiscing about their younger days, Mila looks like she's giving Georgi some advice about women – about time, really – and; on the side, JJ is coaxing his fiancée onto the ice with a gentleness he never thought the fool even possessed.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Otabek asks quietly next to him.

They're drifting lazily across the ice together, behind the rowdy psychos in front, and the serene familiarity about it is making Yuri's stomach churn in a way that isn't all that uncomfortable.

"We don't celebrate Christmas," Yuri replies gruffly. "Not the same day everyone else does anyway."

Otabek nods. "Neither do we, really."

"Then why ask?"

"Seems like a nice day to have dinner with a friend," Otabek says, gazing down at Yuri with his intense eyes.

Yuri's not even sure why, but he feels warmth spread across his cheeks and down his neck. "Sure," he hears himself say, "Not like I have anything better to do."

Otabek's lips quirk, then he puts on a burst of speed and skates ahead, catching up to the others.

In front, Viktor glances back at Yuri with a knowing smile, to which Yuri responds with a growl of irritation.

 _Fine._

Maybe love on the ice isn't so bad once in a while.


End file.
